


angel face, devil thoughts

by http_cosmolio (orphan_account)



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Also Seungkwan is a brat, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Drama, Enemies to Lovers, Hansol is an evil little bastard man tbh and no one is stopping him, M/M, Manipulation, No one wrote evil Hansol so I decided to change that, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Possessive Behavior, Prophetic Visions, Ravenclaw Hansol, Slytherin Seungkwan, Villain Chwe Hansol, Villain Vernon, or should i tag it as, ~Magic~
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:48:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26521678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/http_cosmolio
Summary: Maybe it was a mistake for Seungkwan to provoke Ravenclaw’s star student. Then again, having spells thrown at you by your hot almost-enemy wasn’t the worst situation for him to be in.
Relationships: Boo Seungkwan/Chwe Hansol | Vernon
Comments: 53
Kudos: 131





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SandyRoses](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SandyRoses/gifts).



Seungkwan can _feel_ the presence behind him before he even sees them. He spins around slowly, his wand still tucked neatly away in his back pocket, but if this is who he’s thinking, he’ll need it. 

He smiles politely.

“Fancy seeing you here, Chwe.” His voice betrays none of his current anxiety, and he takes a moment to thank his life of being a Pureblood heir. The added bonus of being a Slytherin had only helped him in the long run. 

Seungkwan sits on the nearest desk, elegantly crossing his legs at the ankle, and waits for Chwe Hansol to come to him. 

He should’ve seen this coming, but at the same time, he didn’t. In hindsight, it was a mistake to spread rumors about Ravenclaw’s most beloved student, especially a Head Boy, but Seungkwan had suspicions to alleviate. 

And now here Chwe Hansol is, and Seungkwan smirks victoriously. Ten points to Slytherin.

This is the first time they’ve been in the same classroom together, much less alone. Being in different Houses is certainly a factor, but Seungkwan had never liked the horde of teenagers that followed the other around. They were an irritating sight, even on good days. 

It wasn’t like Hansol had ever bothered to notice him, and Seungkwan didn’t give a shit.

Despite this, Seungkwan can see that Hansol is even more striking than he first thought, especially when they are only a few meters away. The new silver hair he sports actually suits his sharp, statue-like features quite well — his hair is swept and curled elegantly to reveal his forehead. Loathe as Seungkwan is to admit it, he’s attractive. It’s no wonder that the girls in every House fawn over him. 

“A pleasure,” Hansol replies, and Seungkwan is definitely not imagining the slight disgust in his voice.

Seungkwan smiles thinly, watching as Hansol strides towards him. His face looks incredibly different when the emotion is drained out of it. It’s not like his fangirls are crowding around him and practically begging for his attention, but Hansol isn’t even _trying_ to fool him. 

He tilts his head up when Hansol stops barely a meter away, looking at the Ravenclaw in a way that is unmistakably disrespectful.

“Now would you like to tell me why you have interrupted my lovely study session?” Seungkwan asks, spreading his arms and gesturing at the near empty classroom.

Hansol stares at him, expression clearly unimpressed.

“I actually was studying.”

“Clearly.” Hansol rolls his eyes, somehow managing to make the action look handsome.

“Answer my question.”

“I’ve come for answers,” Hansol says coolly.

“Answers? What questions would you even bother to ask me? Don’t you have your little fan club to answer to your every whim?” Seungkwan mocks, and Hansol shoots him a cold glare.

“What I _want_ to know is how someone like _you_ even found out anything,” Hansol mutters, clearly fed up with the pleasantries. 

“You clearly aren’t careful enough.” Seungkwan tilted his head to the side. “Don’t underestimate me.”

“Does it _look_ like I am?” Hansol snaps. “If I thought these were baseless, idiotic rumors, I wouldn’t have approached you.”

So his rumors _were_ true. 

“Dog recognizes dog,” says Hansol, and Seungkwan scowls at the implications. 

“I may be a liar, but I am not a murderer,” Seungkwan fires back before he can even try and hold his tongue. Hansol’s lips quirk up in amusement.

“As I thought,” Hansol breathes, and Seungkwan just sneers at him in response.

“I was just having my fun, alright?” Seungkwan tells him, lying through his teeth. He runs his hand through his hair, and Hansol tracks the movement with sharp eyes. “This is just a silly joke.”

The Ravenclaw smirks.

“Ah, I see. Then listen to me.” Seungkwan’s listening, all right. “If I were to snap your neck right at this moment, this would just be a fun joke between friends, right?”

Seungkwan flinches back before he can stop a reaction, chills shooting down his spine.

What the _fuck_ , he thinks. 

“We’re not friends,” he says out loud, sneering. “I don’t associate with people like you.”

Seungkwan is desperately trying to get whatever’s left of his self dignity back together, and it’s a rather pathetic attempt, all things considered.

Hansol stalks closer, smiling in a distinctly predatory way.

“People like me,” he repeats softly. “Are you referring to the fact that I’m a _Mudblood_ or for the murder part?”

Seungkwan stiffens. “I don’t use that word.”

“Some of your lovely Housemates do, nevermind the fact that I am a halfblood,” Hansol says, and there’s a hard edge to his voice.

“I may be a Slytherin, but I am not them,” Seungkwan says. Hansol closes in on him, and Seungkwan chooses this particular moment to take out his wand and level it at him. 

And Hansol _smiles_ at him. 

“Why are you smiling?” Seungkwan hisses. Hansol’s wand is also out and pointed at him now, the two of them at a standstill. 

His question is answered when he flies off the desk and into the wall. Seungkwan gasps in pain, casting a shield charm with a wheeze as he struggles to get to his feet.

Hansol launches another wordless spell at him, Seungkwan’s shield cracks in half, and then suddenly they’re flinging spells at each other with reckless abandon.

Seungkwan can already tell that his dueling skills are subpar compared to Hansol’s as the fight begins to wear on. He’s heavily outmatched, and the only thing saving him is his strong shield charm — but how strong is it really, if Hansol can simply break it without even saying a word?

He ducks just in time and sees a particularly vicious cutting curse sail above his head. His heart is pounding loudly in his ears, and the unmistakable effects of magical exhaustion are already setting in.

How talented _is_ Chwe Hansol to look completely unaffected? Seungkwan thinks, frantically eyeing the exit. It’s four meters away, at the very least, and there’s at least six desks in his way. 

Seungkwan shouts another desperate “ _Protego_!” as Hansol sends yet another nonverbal spell in his direction, and throws himself towards the exit.

He doesn’t even make it a meter before he’s toppling to the ground with a loud crash, landing first on a desk and hitting the floor with an unforgiving crack.

He actually cries out louder this time, and he can hear Hansol’s cold laughter as he approaches. Whatever spell he had just used to incapacitate him is wearing off, but it leaves behind an unbearable throbbing throughout his body when he tries to move. It only intensifies when Seungkwan attempts to get to his knees, and he can barely sit up before it starts aching painfully again. 

Seungkwan’s wand is still in his hand, and he holds it up, his hand visibly trembling from the pain. He inhales, the mere effort of it sending another wave of soreness down his arms and legs. He doesn’t have to look up to know Hansol is smiling, but he does anyway.

They lock eyes.

“ _Expelliarmus_ ,” Hansol says quietly. It’s the first time he’s said a spell out loud since before their duel. Seungkwan watches in defeated silence as his wand soars into his hand.

Hansol smiles down at him, and wordlessly conjures a dagger. He rests it against the column of Seungkwan’s throat, a deliberate threat hanging in the air between them.

“I suggest you behave if you want to stay unharmed,” he says, and Seungkwan actually rolls his eyes. Everything still hurts like hell, but he’s getting better at pushing it back. 

“A little too late for that,” Seungkwan snipes, and the dagger digs deeper into his neck, ever so slowly trailing upwards to lift his chin. 

Hansol’s eyes bore into his, deeply calculating.

“You’re being very troublesome,” he remarks, the dagger still tilting up his chin in a deceptively delicate way. Seungkwan just knows that if Hansol really wanted to, he could apply pressure and flick his wrist, and then, well.

Hansol smiles demurely. “Well, I’ve always liked the feisty ones.”

Seungkwan spits at him.

Hansol laughs, and one hand comes to wipe off the saliva. Some of it had landed on his lip, and Seungkwan stares incredulously as he licks it off slowly.

“That’s disgusting,” Seungkwan says, but the quaver in his voice gives him away.

“Do you really think so?” Hansol licks his lips again, and Seungkwan doesn’t hide his shudder this time. 

“Yes, I do,” he spits, just to see the look on Hansol’s face. Unfortunately for him, Hansol has the nerve to look smug.

“I’m sure you think so, pet,” Hansol tells him just a little mockingly, now tracing a finger across his cheekbones.

Seungkwan is seriously tempted to bite him. He would look less pretty without an index finger.

“Don’t call me that. I am no one’s pet,” Seungkwan hisses, red hot rage simmering in his veins.

Hansol just smiles at him, and slowly lowers the dagger.

Stunned at the sudden show of mercy, Seungkwan leans back, nearly falling over in the process. Hansol catches him and sets him down with ease, then brings one hand up and ever so gently wraps Seungkwan’s shaking fingers around the hilt of the dagger. 

It’s silver, bitingly cold to the touch, and when Seungkwan gives it a closer look he can see the most delicate set of wings engraved in the blade.

“For you,” Hansol purrs, in a voice that can only be described as _tender_. Then he retreats, and Seungkwan is left kneeling on the ground.

Seungkwan starts to stand shakily, his knees nearly buckling out underneath him. The dagger is still gripped tight in his hands, but even if he tried to use it, Seungkwan has no doubt that he would fail. 

He’s finally able to get to his feet, wobbling precariously. Hansol is still watching him with an emotionless expression as Seungkwan takes one unstable step towards the door, and then another.

He gets to the doorway before Hansol speaks again.

“Run along now.” Seungkwan does.

* * *

He’s intrigued.

Hansol is not intrigued by much, so this is a very pleasant surprise.

When he had first heard about the rumors, however, he had been enraged at the thought that someone somehow, despite the odds, had broken through his impeccable facade. They had figured him out, and though the rumors were certainly ridiculous and overexaggerated, they still had an ounce of truth.

Never one to be idle, Hansol tracked the source of the rumors down with just a few shy smiles and well placed words. He was given a name. _Boo Seungkwan_.

From what Hansol knew of him, he was a Pureblood Slytherin, and wasn’t that a surprise. He had rolled his eyes when he had realized. No other House would dare to say things like that to someone like him. But this was a Slytherin, and Hansol expected nothing less.

He was dead set on confronting him, and expected the encounter to go very, very sour. In the back of his mind, Hansol itched for another murder. It would be the perfect opportunity.

Then they met, and Hansol was instantly obsessed.

Perhaps it was his surprisingly delicate appearance. Hansol could admit that he was a little shallow when it came to that, but he also knew that it was more Seungkwan’s defiant personality and the delightful challenge in his eyes when they made eye contact.

It was laughably easy to provoke Seungkwan into a duel, and easier still to take him down with a nice curse to the back. Seungkwan was at his mercy. He could’ve done anything, and yet…

The idea of being able to toy with him was too tempting. Hansol gave in. It wasn’t often that Hansol was merciful, but Seungkwan was an exception.

For once, Hansol had felt strangely possessive, looking down at Seungkwan’s shaking form. Despite the clear lack of dueling skills, Hansol could recognize intelligence when he saw it. 

And so here he is. The classroom is long empty, Seungkwan having left nearly half an hour before, but Hansol stares through the doorway thoughtfully.

Seungkwan will come back to him. Hansol _knows_ he will, and relishes in the thought.

Hansol smiles. This should be fun.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seungkwan agrees to something he probably shouldn’t.

Seungkwan hasn’t stopped thinking about their encounter since that fateful, truly terrible day.

It really doesn’t help that whatever curse Hansol had used left a reminder. Everything hurt for a solid three days after, and even when that was over, parts of his body were still sore. 

Chan had suggested that he go to the infirmary, but Seungkwan suspected it was because he wouldn’t stop complaining about the pain.

There was also the fact that Seungkwan had no desire to answer any questions about how he got this particular curse thrown at him. Hansol would likely hunt him down and use an even _worse_ spell on him, and Seungkwan really does not want that.

Luckily for him and his terrible pain tolerance, he can feel only the faint vestiges of any leftover effects by the end of the week. _Finally_. 

Seungkwan sits up in bed.

The two haven’t talked since that incident, and Seungkwan would honestly like to keep it that way.

That stupid Ravenclaw occupies every one of his waking moments, with his stupid silver hair and stupid blue robes. And Seungkwan _loves_ the color blue.

He huffs, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. He takes less than thirty seconds to make his bed, smoothing out the silk pillows and covers with a flick of his wand. The rest of his dorm mates have already gone down to the Great Hall; he would cuss them out for not waking him up, but it turns out it's actually 7:30. Maybe Seungkwan is being a little dramatic.

He gets ready at a slower pace than normal, not exactly wanting to go down to the Great Hall. This is partly due to the fact that this is the _one_ place he will see Chwe Hansol, but also he doesn’t exactly feel like doing schoolwork at all. Breakfast is just a reminder of this, but Seungkwan sucks it up.

The day passes like molasses, but Seungkwan is finally done with the week. He heaves a loud and very relieved sigh when he enters the Great Hall for dinner, earning him a few weird glances from some of his classmates.

“You think they’ll ever find him?” Chan immediately asks him when Seungkwan sits down next to him, propping his book against a goblet. It looks like a very precarious position; Seungkwan takes the book and puts it safely back into Chan’s lap.

“Yoon Jeonghan?” Seungkwan says, because that’s the only person people have been actually talking about. “I doubt it.”

From what Seungkwan knows, the man is incredibly smart. Evading the Ministry _once_ is no small feat, but every time he lures the Aurors to a new location he’s already long, long gone. 

They’ve dubbed him the Fallen Angel, partly due to his ethereal appearance but also the corpses he leaves behind. They say the artistry of his kills reminds them of a Renaissance painting, but Seungkwan thinks the gore and bodies make it look a lot less heavenly. 

It’s hard to romanticize a Dark Lord, but people do it anyway. It’s ironic to call a man with the morality of a devil an angel. Why, it almost reminds Seungkwan of a certain someone.

There’s also speculation that he will attack Hogwarts, but Seungkwan doubts the man, as powerful as he is, will be able to make his way inside. Something tells him that Headmaster Lee would kick his ass. That, and the fact that every single professor would be set loose on him.

“I’m more worried about Chwe,” Seungkwan says irritably, stabbing at a piece of steak with his fork. He puts it in his mouth with a little more aggression than necessary.

“Uh huh,” Chan says, clearly listening. Seungkwan glowers at him. 

“You could stand to be a little more respectful,” he scolds, and Chan fixes him with the most exhausted expression he’s ever seen. 

“No.” Chan flips another page.

Seungkwan looks at him incredulously, but Chan is once again enamored with his book; upon closer look, he sees that it's about Divination. _Seers of the 18th and 19th Century_ , the title proclaims.

He squints a little, but Seungkwan isn’t about to judge the younger for his strange choice in reading material, so he shrugs it off.

Once Seungkwan is certain Chan is not paying attention — not like the little brat ever was in the first place — he glances around the Great Hall.

Unfortunately, the Slytherin table is located directly next to the Ravenclaws. Seungkwan makes direct eye contact with Chwe fucking Hansol, because his luck is awful that way.

Seungkwan watches Hansol _smirk_ at him, the fucking asshole, and rolls his eyes — the pinnacle of maturity — before turning back around. He can feel the Ravenclaw’s eyes burning into the back even as he returns to his dinner, and he rolls his eyes again.

Chan has his gaze fixed on Seungkwan when he looks back up, and Seungkwan scowls at him, daring him to say anything. His eyes pointedly flicker to Hansol, who thankfully isn’t watching them anymore.

“You’re more worried about Chwe,” Chan chirps cheekily, parroting Seungkwan’s own words back at him. Seungkwan decides he needs a new best friend.

“Oh, so now you’re paying attention?” Seungkwan snaps, crossing his arms. Chan cackles, practically folding himself in half with the force of his laughter, and Seungkwan whacks him (gently) on his back to get him to stop laughing.

“It wasn’t even that funny,” he sighs, and Chan eventually recovers enough of his dignity to get back to his food. 

“It kind of was, with how prickly you’re being,” Chan says, but there’s no malice to it. “Have you ever talked to him?”

“Once,” Seungkwan mutters darkly. Chan raises both eyebrows. Once again, his mind flashes back to their first disastrous encounter. “Never again.”

“Okay,” Chan says doubtfully. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Seungkwan sighs for the twentieth time and gets back to his food. He listlessly picks at it for another five minutes until the dishes clear, and then he and Chan are standing up to leave with the rest of the Great Hall.

“I think I’m going to go off to one of the towers,” Seungkwan tells Chan as they leave.

“That’s cool, dude,” Chan says. “I’ll see you at the dorms.”

Chan claps him on the back goodnaturedly, and the two head off in their separate directions.

As he begins walking and the crowds thin, Seungkwan can already tell that Hansol is following him. He inwardly sighs and starts climbing the stairs to one of the towers anyway.

It’s painful, because with every floor they pass and every staircase they climb, Seungkwan can feel the other’s (unwelcome) presence lurking behind him. Could he be any less subtle?

They reach the seventh floor before Hansol tries anything. When they are the only two people milling about, Hansol leans forward and taps his shoulder. Seungkwan shrugs him off and keeps moving forward, but then Hansol’s hand clamps down, forcing him to a stop.

“I’m surprised you haven’t approached me earlier,” Seungkwan says airily, not bothering to turn around. He shoves Hansol’s hand off of his shoulder.

“I’m surprised you haven’t either, considering the way you’ve been eyeing me like a piece of candy,” is Hansol’s response.

Seungkwan whirls around, already furious, only to be met with Hansol’s smug demeanor.

 _Good job, idiot_ , one traitorous part of his brain says. _You fell for the trap._

 _Shut the fuck up_ , Seungkwan thinks. 

“You _dare_ speak to me like that,” Seungkwan says to him, while both sides of his brain continue to squabble. “No one would dare insult me and therefore my family—”

“Not everyone submits to your Pureblood family traditions,” Hansol interrupts, a cold look sliding over his face.

Seungkwan takes a moment to process that, and then automatically rears up in offense. Hansol scoffs at him, and that only makes it worse.

“Does your delicate sensibility find that _offensive_?” Hansol says quietly, and Seungkwan decides that’s enough.

“You’re being serious?” Seungkwan hisses, trying to stab Hansol with his eyes. “Do you not understand the intricacies of upper Wizarding society or are you just incredibly daft?”

Hansol continues watching him with a bored expression, cocking his head to the side.

“God, you’re insufferable,” Seungkwan spits, his hands curling into fists when he doesn’t respond. “You filthy—”

There’s a dangerous pause as Seungkwan abruptly realizes what he was about to say, and then he goes completely still. Mere centimeters away, Hansol smiles dangerously. 

“Good job, Seungkwan,” Hansol says softly. “You almost reminded me of a stereotypical Pureblood.”

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck_ , Seungkwan chants. Of all the people to lose his temper at, it’s the one person that could kill him without even blinking. And Seungkwan suspects Hansol wouldn’t even be that affected by murdering him.

“You know,” Hansol continues, voice smooth as silk. “I really didn’t expect it from you.”

Every word cuts into him like a knife stabbing into butter. Hansol leans even closer, and Seungkwan’s breathing goes unsteady, his body taut with tension.

Seungkwan can feel the Ravenclaw’s breath ghosting over his lips, and he wills himself not to flinch away.

“But I suppose I was wrong,” he sighs. “You really _are_ a bratty little Pureblood heir.”

The tension snaps. Seungkwan shoves Hansol away from him as hard as possible, backing away. Hansol follows him idly, picking at his nails as Seungkwan tries to escape the scene.

“Go away,” Seungkwan snaps shakily, not breaking eye contact as he stumbles down the hall. Wow, his limbs are failing him, he thinks as he propels himself backwards, and nearly trips on his face.

Seungkwan isn’t looking behind him, either, so he accidentally smacks his head into the wall at the end of the corridor. He hisses in pain, clutching at the back of his head, but Hansol is already closing the distance between them.

Hansol’s right hand slams against the wall, mere centimeters away from his head. Seungkwan does not flinch, but he does lower his own hand very slowly.

“A noble intimidation tactic,” Seungkwan murmurs. It comes out a little more huffily than he wanted it to.

Hansol smirks, because of _course_ he fucking does, and leans in close. 

“You’ve attracted my attention,” he says, smiling. He really does have the face of an angel, Seungkwan’s brain helpfully reminds him. Seungkwan makes a disgusted expression.

“How surprising, considering your fangirls probably desire it more.” Seungkwan crosses his arms, trying to lean further away, but his head smacks against the wall again and he winces.

“I don’t care about them,” Hansol says sharply.

“You don’t?” Seungkwan raises one eyebrow, a technique that took him three months to pull off.

“I don’t,” Hansol agrees mildly. There’s the faintest sneer on his face.

Oh. With the way that he dealt with them, Seungkwan had assumed he at least didn’t mind them much. So that was a lie too. 

“Listen, Seungkwan,” Hansol says, abruptly changing tactics. Seungkwan blinks rapidly in surprise.

“I’m listening,” Seungkwan replies, making sure to imbue every word with doubt.

“I see a lot of potential in you,” Hansol says, and Seungkwan jerks a little bit. _What? Where the hell did that come from?_

“Yes, I know I’m powerful,” Seungkwan says, but Hansol shoots him a look that has him instantly quieting.

“Listen to me,” Hansol repeats, but his voice is sounding more frenzied and Seungkwan has a bad feeling about this. 

“We would work well together—” and here Seungkwan snorts a little bit, “—and I could give you glory. I could teach you so many things.”

Hansol is crowding him against the wall again, his eyes not leaving his face. This is the most emotion Seungkwan has seen out of him, and it’s making him anxious. He sincerely prays that Hansol is not going insane, but this momentary bout of insanity seems to contradict that.

“I want to help you,” he continues, voice calm again. Hansol actually sounds sincere, but Seungkwan shakes his head several times.

“You sound like a budding Dark Lord, spouting nonsense like that,” Seungkwan says, voice pitched low and mocking, and Hansol actually laughs out loud at that. 

“Perhaps so.” Seungkwan lets it sink in, and then blinks several times. Something tells him Hansol is not joking.

Seungkwan stares at Hansol with a newfound wariness — not that he wasn’t already wary of the other — and carefully keeps his own expression neutral.

“You’re really not as subtle as you think you are, Kwannie,” Hansol says quietly. “If you want to be scared, at the very least you could show me your pretty expressions.”

Seungkwan makes a face that shows _exactly_ how he feels about that particular sentiment. Hansol just sighs and takes his hand away from where it was braced on the wall, finally stepping away and giving Seungkwan the breathing space he needs.

He takes a deep, shuddering breath, still eyeing Hansol suspiciously. 

“We could avoid all this trouble if you’d just join me,” Hansol offers. He still looks absolutely sincere, the bastard.

“I’d never join you,” Seungkwan says automatically. _I hate you_ , he doesn’t add.

Hansol pauses, thrown off for a second, but he recovers quickly and smiles charmingly down at him. “Well, I’ll convince you eventually.”

Seungkwan feels the stunning spell hit his chest as their eyes meet again, and he curses Hansol’s entire existence as he collapses.

* * *

Seungkwan wakes up in confines. His first instinct is to struggle, but there’s no wiggle room for him to possibly escape. The harder he tugs at his binds, the more the rope chafes against his wrists and ankles, so he quickly gives up. His wand is who knows where, but Seungkwan knows exactly who to blame.

“You little bitch,” Seungkwan says. Hansol fixes him with his usual blank expression. Seungkwan hates him even more by the second.

“I hate you, you fucking buffoon,” he adds, just because he can, “and you should really stop staring at me like that. I don’t like that.”

Hansol doesn’t respond immediately, so Seungkwan huffs and surveys the room instead.

It’s the same basic layout as the rest of the classrooms, but there are multiple paintings hung on the walls. The furniture reminds Seungkwan of his own living room, except for whatever reason everything is against the wall. A practice room, perhaps? His eyes don’t linger long, because something draws his gaze back to one specific painting, decorated with a rich background. There is no occupant. 

Seungkwan looks back at Hansol, who kneels in front of him.

“We really need to stop getting in this kind of situation,” Seungkwan says. He sounds tired even to his own ears. The swearing took a lot out of him.

Hansol smiles like that’s an especially funny joke, and leans forward to prop his elbows on Seungkwan’s thighs. 

“We really do need to talk,” Hansol murmurs, looking up at Seungkwan with an innocent expression. “I still want to know why you even chose me to spread rumors about in the first place. You never answered my question that last time.”

One hand drops down and squeezes at his thigh, and Seungkwan closes his eyes and prays for patience.

“I couldn’t….I still can’t decipher you,” Seungkwan finally admits through gritted teeth. 

Hansol tilts his head, waiting patiently for him to continue.

“I knew there was something strange about your magic, but everything else about you is…” Seungkwan shakes his head frantically, as if that will explain it. He huffs in exasperation. “...the rest of you was perfect.”

It’s the first compliment Seungkwan has given him, and Hansol actually laughs in delight. 

“But I _could_ tell that you were faking your persona,” Seungkwan adds. That was something he was absolutely sure of. 

“How intelligent of you,” Hansol praises. Seungkwan gives him his fakest smile. The only reason he knew anything was because of Seungkwan’s own family history — with multiple generations of Slytherins, encountering dark magic was inevitable. Plus, everyone he had met at his mother’s parties was fake as fuck.

There’s a prolonged pause as Seungkwan weighs his options. Hansol doesn’t look like he’s going anywhere any time soon.

The smarter choice would obviously be to tell him no. Hansol is clearly an unstable wild card in the grand scheme of things, and Seungkwan should want nothing to do with him. However, Seungkwan can’t deny that he’s afraid of what would happen if he turned him down.

“Will you leave me alone if I agree to this?” he finally asks. He feels like he’s condemning himself to some sort of contract, with Hansol being the demon and Seungkwan being the absolute fool who even agreed to anything in the first place. 

“Of course I will,” Hansol purrs, but they both know that that is a blatant lie.

There’s a moment of silence as they stare at each other. Seungkwan clears his throat. “Can you let me go now?”

Hansol actually _sighs_ , as if this is a major inconvenience, but he reluctantly waves his wand with an elegant flick. The ropes fall away, and Seungkwan immediately stands, rubbing at his wrists.

“I need my wand back.” Hansol’s lips thin a bit, as if he doesn’t want Seungkwan armed again (hmm, he wonders why). It takes another moment, but Hansol tosses him his wand with a bored look.

“Thank you,” Seungkwan tells him, grinding his teeth together, and smoothly turns on his heel, heading for the exit.

“We’ll meet Friday evening, after dinner,” Hansol calls after him. “Remember that.”

Seungkwan is tempted to respond with a thoughtful “ _Fuck you_ ,” but he has the feeling that Hansol wouldn’t appreciate it. He turns around as he passes the doorway.

Hansol’s smile burns into his mind even as he looks away, and Seungkwan slams the door on his smug face with a resounding bang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi it’s me again. i wanted to get this chapter out before school started, but just a fair warning, my updates will probably be all over the place after this. i’m planning to do a flashback chapter every third chapter (multiple of three,,) but if you don’t want me to do that just tell me haha. my Twitter is right here if you wanna say hello. cheers!


	3. Flashback 1

Hansol first sees the painting on his way to class.

It’s empty, its current occupant long gone — possibly never there in the first place — but Hansol stops and stares anyway.

He studies the sparse white feathers littered across the floor of the painting. Dove feathers, perhaps, Hansol muses, but his interest dies out quickly. There’s nothing special about dove feathers.

The painting reappears several days later, on a higher floor than last time. There are more feathers than before, but still no occupant, and Hansol squints suspiciously at it.

Every time he happens to catch a glance of the painting, it seems as though more white feathers gather at the bottom of the painting, and the painting always moves one floor up. From where Hansol first saw it in the dungeons, it steadily moves up. He never knew paintings had that ability, but it’s entirely possible this is all a hallucination.

When Hansol spots it on the seventh floor, there are words written on the painting — or in it, Hansol isn’t quite sure.

“Show me the Room of the Fallen,” Hansol reads slowly, trailing a finger across the painting. It feels surprisingly smooth to the touch, almost completely polished. It feels nothing like a typical canvas.

Hansol presses it harder, trying to figure out why this painting feels so strange, when the painting’s occupant suddenly appears. He flinches in surprise, raising his wand in retaliation, but the man doesn’t even move.

The man observes him without a word, and slowly steps out of the painting, setting his feet silently on the floor.

He brushes a strand of platinum blonde hair out of his face, highlighting his perfect features, and that’s when Hansol recognizes him.

Hansol’s first thought is _What the fuck?_ , followed by an amazed, _How is he so gorgeous?_. Then, Hansol remembers that this particular face is on every wanted poster in the Wizarding World, and he pales. 

“You know me,” Yoon Jeonghan breathes, one perfect hand reaching up to smooth over Hansol’s cheek. Hansol watches him in silence.

“Yes,” Hansol agrees quietly. 

There are still a myriad of confused thoughts running through his head, but his tongue feels too twisted to actually ask anything. 

Jeonghan smiles at him. “Aren’t you a cute boy.”

Hansol fights the urge to scowl at him and settles for a slightly irritated expression instead. Jeonghan beams wider in response, one of his pale hands winding around Hansol’s waist. The painting behind him swings open, and Jeonghan guides him inside.

The man’s lithe fingers tighten around his waist, just enough to be uncomfortable, but Hansol says nothing, allowing Jeonghan to lead him along into the center of the room.

The room itself is surprisingly spacious, and Hansol takes a moment to scan it thoughtfully.

It would be a good room to hold Defense, he thinks. The open area would be good for duels, but the lush carpet might need to be removed for the sake of something being set on fire. His eyes linger very briefly on that same painting frame that Jeonghan came out of, and Hansol frowns slightly. 

Jeonghan conjures an armchair with an elegant flick of his wand, and sits down just as elegantly. Another flick, barely noticeable, and the painting at the other side of the room explodes into pieces. 

Hansol can’t help but watch the display of magic with wide eyes. It’s a little unnecessary, yes, but…

He’s never known anyone this talented, especially with nonverbal magic. Magic is a difficult and fickle thing, of course, but nonverbal magic is another matter. The idea of concentrating on the spell in your mind without even saying it…and this is ignoring the additional difficulty of wandless magic. Hansol has the feeling Jeonghan can do that too without batting an eyelash. 

His teachers were already planning to teach the students nonverbal magic eventually, but Hansol can’t help the overwhelming desire to be even better than the rest. To _know_ more than his fellow classmates. It’s a strangely Slytherin-like ambition. 

Jeonghan is smiling sweetly at him when he comes out of his reverie.

“I will be frank,” Jeonghan begins, gently propping his head up with one hand. “I have seen your talent and your intelligence. With that I see your unbridled potential, and it would be foolish of me to not cultivate it.”

Hansol’s expression must be a good enough indication of his bewilderment, because Jeonghan just tuts at him. 

“First lesson, Chwe Hansol. There are paintings everywhere,” Jeonghan murmurs, the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “It would be good for you to remember that.”

Hansol remembers the countless paintings he’s seen — or rather, the _same_ painting — and he inwardly shudders. How long has Jeonghan been watching him?

“What else will you be teaching me?” Hansol decides on asking, instead of anything more…questionable. Like if Jeonghan was stalking him or not, or if he plans to murder Hansol in the near future. 

Either way, ignoring the murder, someone like Yoon Jeonghan has years of wisdom over him. His professors have that same advantage, yet Hansol suspects that Jeonghan has had a much… _wider_ range of experiences. It’s probably the dark magic. 

“I would like to teach many, many things,” Jeonghan hums, tapping a finger against his chin. “I suppose some would consider my favorite kind of magic immoral — or even _dark_ , depending on your word choice — but I hope you will learn to agree with my ideals.” 

“How do you know that I will even agree with you?” Hansol asks, thinking of the slightly insane expression he saw on the last wanted poster. Jeonghan’s lips quirk up.

“I can tell.” Jeonghan doesn’t elaborate, and Hansol’s eyes narrow in contemplation. 

“Hansol,” Jeonghan murmurs at Hansol’s doubtful expression. “I know that you’ve spent hours in the library, looking at things that you shouldn’t. You really aren’t that subtle.”

Hansol doesn’t dare speak, too unnerved to come up with any suitable response. So Jeonghan _has_ been stalking him. 

“You would have done well in Slytherin,” Jeonghan continues airily, completely changing the topic.

Is that an insult? Hansol can’t help the way he automatically squints at him. “I’m a Ravenclaw.”

“Yes, yes, I know,” Jeonghan says, waving a hand as he strides to some other corner of the room. He doesn’t look like he cares that much. 

“Okay,” Hansol says doubtfully, following Jeonghan. 

So they _are_ doing Defense. The initial curiosity of a new lesson appears, but it’s quickly followed by bafflement when Jeonghan elegantly sits down on a stack of pillows. 

Hansol’s mouth opens and closes.

“Hansol, love, watch this,” Jeonghan says, and one of the pillows shoots out and hits the wall. It lands with a very quiet thump, and a few feathers fly out. 

Jeonghan stands back up, dusting a white feather from his spotless pants, and ushers Hansol closer.

“Copy that,” Jeonghan instructs, and Hansol nods. He leans forward to take a pillow from the stack, and Jeonghan hits his hand so violently he jumps. 

“No, _no_ , you idiotic boy,” Jeonghan hisses, his tone bordering on furious. “You have a wand, don’t you? Use it.”

Hansol pulls out his wand, struggling to not give Jeonghan an incredulous look.

“ _Accio—_ ” he begins, but Jeonghan slaps his hand again. Hansol drops his wand in surprise and actually glares at Jeonghan.

“You stupid boy,” Jeonghan mocks, and Hansol inhales sharply. “I’m trying to teach you _nonverbal_ magic. Don’t you have basic listening comprehension?”

Hansol opens his mouth to voice the protest that Jeonghan hasn’t even said _shit_ about doing nonverbal magic, but he is silenced with a swift look. 

“Pick up your wand,” Jeonghan orders, and Hansol leans down and snatches it off the floor.

He looks at Jeonghan with clear irritation. The man just raises a single eyebrow at him, gesturing to the unassuming stack of pillows. 

“Be silent,” Jeonghan reminds him unnecessarily, and Hansol smiles thinly, pointing at the pillow. 

To his surprise, the pillow lands in his left hand, and Hansol automatically slides it under his arm. Jeonghan claps, but everything about it sounds mocking. Hansol shuts his eyes and prays for patience.

“You’ve only gotten step one,” Jeonghan says, and Hansol opens his eyes again. Just step _one?_

“Hit that wall with the pillow.” Hansol looks down at the pillow and back up, and Jeonghan nods slowly.

Hansol takes a moment to assess how far away the wall is, and lets out a small sigh of exasperation. He has a sinking feeling that step one was just a fluke, and by the look on Jeonghan’s face, the man likely thinks the same. 

“You can do this.” Or not. Jeonghan actually sounded kind and sincere for a moment, but then he starts sneering, and Hansol wants to murder him. 

He attempts to summon the full force of the sun into his glare, but Jeonghan looks completely unaffected. In fact, the bastard _smiles_.

It takes two tries to even levitate the pillow, but Hansol can’t even get it to move another inch. 

He watches in frustrated silence as the pillow trembles in the air and then promptly hits the ground. 

Hansol looks back at Jeonghan, who appears to be completely unimpressed. He’s even seated himself down on the same pillow stack, picking at his nails with more elegance than Hansol expects.

Jeonghan pauses to glance up at Hansol, and then he moves his finger in a circle, clearly asking for him to get a move on.

Hansol grits his teeth, pointing his wand at the pillow and concentrating as hard as possible.

He nearly gets it. The pillow goes about a quarter of the way to the wall before it lands with a soft _thump_.

“Again,” Jeonghan says, folding his hands in his lap. His attention is finally back on Hansol. “Really now, you can do better.”

Hansol tries again. The pillow goes halfway across the room this time.

“Again.”

He tries again. And again, and again, and again, and _again_ , with Jeonghan’s lilting voice calling the command over and over. Finally, close to frustration, he watches the pillow smack against the wall with a satisfying thump. Hansol nearly cries in relief. A few stray feathers drift to the ground, and Hansol exhales deeply and closes his eyes.

He hasn’t had this much trouble with magic since he was a first year.

“Hansol, look at me.” 

Hansol turns back, confused, and a wine glass hurtles straight at his face.

His hand flicks out on instinct, and he throws the glass against the bricks. It shatters on impact.

Jeonghan’s face splits into an angelic smile.

“See, I knew you could do it.”

Hansol stares at him, slightly betrayed. His hand is still shaking from the effort.

“Oh come now, don’t look at me like that,” Jeonghan laughs. Even his laugh is startlingly beautiful. Hansol can’t tell whether he despises it or not.

Hansol opens his mouth, then closes it again. 

_Well played_ , he thinks begrudgingly, and Hansol knows he is not imagining it when the smile spreads on Jeonghan’s face. 

“Good job,” he praises, leaning forward to pat Hansol’s head in a decidedly condescending way. As much as Hansol hates being patronized, he smiles anyway.

Hansol waits for Jeonghan to say something else, perhaps give him another piece of advice, but the man remains silent.

“That’s it?” Hansol asks. 

“If you struggle with something so simple, I don’t doubt that attempting to teach you something else would be much too difficult for your simpleminded brain,” Jeonghan replies callously, and Hansol flushes in embarrassment. He can feel his ears burning.

“I—that’s not—” he protests, but Jeonghan just smiles patronizingly at him. 

“It’s true, is it not?” Jeonghan asks, and Hansol can’t come up with a good response. 

In a way, the man is _technically_ right, but did he have to be so rude? 

“So you won’t be teaching me anything else,” Hansol says hoarsely, trying desperately to get the last scraps of his dignity back. Jeonghan claps his hands together.

“That’s right,” he chirps, and Hansol tries not to feel like he’s been slapped in the face for the second time.

“Alright.”

“Oh, don’t look so much like a kicked puppy, dear Hansollie,” Jeonghan chides. “You’re going to practice and get so much better, aren’t you?”

The way Jeonghan says it sounds so much like a threat that Hansol stills in place.

“Of course,” Hansol whispers, ducking his head a little bit, and Jeonghan scoffs softly. 

“We’ll meet again when you don’t disappoint me,” Jeonghan says, waving his hand aimlessly in the air. Hansol almost misses the sight of a beautiful silver ring on his index finger, but then the words sink in. 

That’s strike three.

“Of course,” Hansol repeats, void of any emotion. 

It’s very rare for Hansol to disappoint one of his elders — one of his _teachers_ — and the shame of it settles deep in his gut. He’s so used to being the best at everything that Hansol has gotten careless, and it clearly shows. He must get better in order to achieve perfection. Not just for Jeonghan, but for himself.

“Good boy,” Jeonghan says, with another condescending pat to the head.

Jeonghan takes a worryingly long time to remove his hand, but Hansol isn’t about to risk angering him by moving or even batting him away.

Finally, after a tense moment of silence, Jeonghan pulls his hand back, setting it back in his lap with a small, pleased smile. 

_He hasn’t dismissed me_ , Hansol thinks, and resigns himself to waiting some more. 

Jeonghan takes his time to simply stare at Hansol, pale blonde strands falling across his eyes as he tilts his head. Hansol remains still, trying to think of anything he could have possibly missed, and then Jeonghan speaks again.

“Hansollie, aren’t you going to thank me?” Jeonghan asks. 

“Thank you,” Hansol forces out, and hopes it sounds somewhat natural. As much as he was humiliated, Jeonghan _has_ taught him something. Perhaps it’s just that Hansol needs to get his shit together. 

“That’s a good boy,” he says. “You can go now.”

Hansol bows in place, and misses the pleased smirk that briefly spreads across Jeonghan’s face. 

“I’ll be waiting, love. Be sure not to disappoint me next time.” The look on his aristocratic features can only be described as arrogant, and Hansol swallows. 

With that, Jeonghan turns away, and Hansol takes that as his cue to walk away.

Even without turning around, Hansol can feel the way Jeonghan’s stare burns into his back. He forces himself to take deep, steady breaths, and passes the doorway without breaking down. 

He turns to look back, but is instead greeted with a stone wall. There’s no sign of the painting, either, and Hansol swivels in a slow circle to check for it. There’s nothing there.

It’s as if the room was never there in the first place, and Hansol is left completely alone with his thoughts.

 _I can choose not to return_ , Hansol automatically thinks, but then remembers the cocky look on Jeonghan’s face. The man expects him to return — he’s one hundred percent certain Hansol will — and Hansol is then faced with the sudden reality that Jeonghan would absolutely hunt him down.

“Your knowledge gives you power,” Hansol tries to remind himself softly, finally turning away from the wall. Even if Jeonghan attempts to murder him in the long run, it would be vital to take in the information he knows and learn as much as possible. If his teachers won’t teach him everything, then it’s absolutely necessary to learn from Jeonghan instead.

But first, Hansol needs to practice this nonverbal spell, get it absolutely right. This is just the beginning.

 _You will not fail me_. He can almost hear Jeonghan’s soft, lilting voice in his mind. 

Oh, Hansol will make sure he won’t. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hoooooollllllyyyyyyy shit that really did take a whole month to post. school actually decided to kick me off a cliff and expected me to crawl back up. anyway, hope you liked this!! i’ll try to post one more chapter this weekend, but we’ll see.


	4. Chapter 4

“I thought you weren’t going to talk to him anymore,” is the first thing Chan says to him. He’s hopping down each of the stairs with a little more force than necessary, which is kind of cute, but that’s not the point.

“Good morning to you too,” Seungkwan says, and then wilts under the force of Chan’s glare. Well, Chan was going to find out anyway. It was only a matter of time.

“You said you would stop talking to him,” Chan repeats. He sounds a little tired, and honestly, Seungkwan can’t really blame him.

“I never said I would—” Seungkwan begins, and then promptly remembers the promise he had made to Chan about not talking to Hansol. The tips of his ears start to turn red. 

“You’re an idiot _and_ a liar,” Chan says, as brutal as ever. Seungkwan pouts, but Chan has no mercy.

“Seungkwannie, he’s clearly irritating you. Why don’t you just, I dunno, _ignore_ him?” 

“He’s not irritating me,” Seungkwan says unconvincingly. 

Chan raises both eyebrows at him, completely unimpressed. Well, Seungkwan has never really been able to lie to Chan anyway.

“Dear Chanathan,” Seungkwan says, just to see that spark of rage light in Chan’s eyes and also distract him, “I do admire your advice, but—”

“I haven’t even given you advice,” Chan protests, but Seungkwan points a finger at him. 

“Let me finish.” The younger rolls his eyes, and Seungkwan ungracefully shoves him towards their seats. They sit down, Chan clearly done with his antics, but Seungkwan isn’t finished yet. 

“I’ll be able to handle him, I’m sure of it,” Seungkwan declares, picking up his fork.

Chan’s eyes focus on something behind Seungkwan before he scoffs, turning to look at his food. “Yeah, good luck with that.”

Seungkwan frowns, but then Hansol’s arms wrap around his waist, and he squawks loudly before he can stop himself. It attracts all sorts of attention, and Seungkwan curses the momentary lapse of composure.

“Tonight,” Hansol whispers, right into his ear, and Seungkwan flinches.

“Could you be any more ominous?” Seungkwan asks dryly. 

“You know what I mean.” He can practically hear Hansol’s eye roll, and Seungkwan smirks. 

“Alright,” Seungkwan drawls, attempting to dislodge Hansol’s wandering hands. “Then that was completely unnecessary.”

“I just thought you just needed a reminder,” Hansol purrs, fighting Seungkwan’s attempts, and Chan makes an incredulous noise next to him.

“Okay, asshole,” Seungkwan says, and Hansol chokes. Seungkwan turns, trying to make sure he heard that right, but Hansol has already regained his composure. Damn.

Chan is watching them both with a carefully neutral expression, and Hansol notices.

“What?” Hansol asks. 

“Nothing,” Chan replies, a little too quickly, shooting Hansol an unhappy look. He sounds suspicious, but that’s nothing new. 

Hansol and Chan proceed to have a stare off that lasts an uncomfortable minute and a half. 

“Chwe Hansol,” Hansol finally says, his eyes not leaving Chan.

“I know who you are,” Chan says coolly. He sits up straighter, hands held neatly in front of him.

“You do?” Hansol asks. 

“You’re not exactly unpopular.” Chan’s hands tighten on his book. He looks like he might just pick it up and brain Hansol with it, and Seungkwan lays a comforting hand on top.

Chan smiles at him, though it’s a bit forced.

“That’s good to know,” Hansol says, and Chan must find his tone patronizing, because he just gives him an irritated look. 

“Yeah, okay, have fun with Seungkwan,” Chan says, completely insincere. Seungkwan watches him turn back to his food, but Hansol doesn’t seem to think the conversation is over quite yet.

“Lee Chan,” Hansol says, and Chan turns back to look at him.

Chan’s brows furrow. 

“It was nice to meet you,” Hansol says. Seungkwan watches Chan's hands slowly clench and unclench on top of his book, a nervous habit of his. 

“You too,” Chan grits out, and stands up.

“Wait, you haven’t eaten yet,” Seungkwan calls, but Chan just waves a hand at him, walking away before Seungkwan can reach out and stop him. 

“He doesn’t like me,” Hansol remarks, his fingers tapping erratically on Seungkwan’s waist. 

Seungkwan says nothing, because it’s true. He picks up Chan’s book — he doesn’t remember a time where Chan _hasn’t_ brought it with him — and sets it on his lap. Hansol’s eyes follow it curiously.

“An interesting choice for a novel,” Hansol says, and Seungkwan hums noncommittally. 

“He’s always been into that sort of stuff,” Seungkwan comments. “He likes Divination. Knowing about the future is interesting, I suppose. He must enjoy prophecies a lot.” 

“Does he now?” Hansol asks, but doesn’t comment further on it. Seungkwan flips the book upside down, running a hand down the worn spine. It’s good quality leather, Seungkwan notes. There’s gold embellishments along the sides as well. It must have cost quite a lot. 

“I’ll give it back to him later,” Seungkwan says. He peers back at Hansol, who hasn’t moved from his spot. “You can go now.”

“We meet tonight,” Hansol reminds him for the umpteenth time, and Seungkwan sighs imperceptibly.

“Yes, I am aware,” he replies, tone bland. Hansol finally lets go, stepping back and brushing off invisible dust. “I’ll see you then.”

Hansol nods at him, and Seungkwan is left alone.

He absentmindedly flips through the pages. Chan isn’t here to scold him for it, and Seungkwan isn’t careless enough to destroy his friend’s property. 

Right. He’ll see Chan later in the day, and he can have his precious book back. 

And then, of course, he’ll see Hansol. What a joyous day it is.

* * *

Professor Kwon’s lesson, as per fucking usual, is absolutely chaotic.

Seriously? You can’t talk to the person to the left, to the right, behind you, or two spaces diagonally in any direction, but everyone else is fair game? What kind of rule is that? 

Seungkwan legitimately wonders if Professor Kwan has one ounce of sanity left, but comes to a fairly quick conclusion.

 _The answer is no_ , Seungkwan thinks, watching the room devolve into even more of a mess. The professor is only goading them on, occasionally shouting out another new rule, and Seungkwan has to duck more than once when a spell flies directly over him. 

“Having fun?” A chipper voice asks, right in Seungkwan’s ear, and Seungkwan nearly falls out of his seat.

Professor Kwon lets out a sound that can only be described as a cackle, and Seungkwan plasters a fake smile on his face.

“Of course, sir,” Seungkwan lies through his teeth, desperately attempting to not let his real emotions shine through. 

It works. Mostly. 

“I can’t help but notice that you’ve been off, Mr. Boo,” Professor Kwon says casually, and oh no. 

Everyone knows Kwon is a little unhinged, but he’s remarkably observant. He has to be, in order to be a successful Defense teacher. But he’s still insane.

“Are you doing alright?” the professor asks.

Seungkwan had to respond to that. It’s a casual question, one that Seungkwan is trying not to overthink, but he feels like he’s walking on eggshells. 

Or perhaps he’s just paranoid.

“I’ve been doing well, sir,” Seungkwan says. It’s a half truth. Hansol has been occupying every part of his mind since their first meeting, and that’s a double edged sword, isn’t it? He’s been distracted, that’s for sure.

“Well, that’s good.” There’s something doubtful in the professor’s tone, but Seungkwan hopes he’s not analyzing it too deeply.

“Yes, it is.”

Professor Kwon pauses for a moment.

“I’ll leave you alone now,” Professor Kwon says, and Seungkwan breathes the tiniest sigh of relief. “But I think I’ll leave you with a little piece of advice.” 

_Oh, absolutely fantastic_ , Seungkwan thinks. The professor is notorious for useless or incredibly vague statements that he calls “advice.” Seungkwan prepares himself for one of said statements.

"Fallen angels have fallen for a reason, Mr. Boo."

Seungkwan goes still, but the serious look has already vanished from the professor’s eyes.

“Only joking,” Professor Kwon chirps, and pats Seungkwan on the back good-naturedly. 

“Uhm, alright,” Seungkwan says softly, but the professor has already left him alone at the table.

Seungkwan doesn’t think the man was joking in the slightest.

He swallows, his throat suddenly dry, and looks back down at his scroll. It’s suddenly stifling.

It’s the final class of the day. He’ll get through this, and then he’ll be out.

Seungkwan’s unfocused gaze finally drifts back up when the professor claps his hands together twice, commanding their attention.

“Dismissed,” Professor Kwon calls, and the entire class rises to their feet in a flurry of motion. 

Seungkwan can’t help but feel as though Professor Kwon’s eyes follow him as he walks out of the classroom, and he shudders, clutching his messenger bag tighter to his chest.

He finds himself wandering as soon as he’s free. Instead of going back to the dormitories, where he’ll see Chan, he ends up on the seventh floor.

Seungkwan paces recklessly, not bothering to keep track of the time as he goes down and up the staircases. His messenger bag feels like it’s burning a hole into his shoulder, but he ignores it, continuing to move back and forth until his legs are sore.

Everything keeps going back to Hansol, but it would be foolish to not reconsider his actions. The most ideal situation would be to avoid him completely, but it’s almost impossible. They’re both in the same year, anyway, and Seungkwan has a strong feeling that Hansol gets what he wants.

Seungkwan can’t help but be curious, and he hates it.

There is every reason Seungkwan should not interact with the wild card that is Chwe Hansol, and yet there is something undoubtedly fascinating about him. It draws them closer together, and with every encounter they have Seungkwan feels as though he is being yanked closer by a string of fate.

Seungkwan doesn’t even know how long he’s been on the seventh floor until he watches the sun drift below the horizon, and he slumps to the ground in defeat. 

There really isn’t anything stopping him from going, is there? Deep down, Seungkwan knows that he was never really going to ditch the lesson in the first place.

He’s so out of it that he barely notices the footsteps coming down the corridor until they’re right in front of him.

“Ahem.” Oh, it’s Hansol. Unsurprising, really.

“How did you find me?” Seungkwan demands, hands shaking a little. He tightens his grip on his bag, and Hansol tilts his head to the side minutely.

He must look a pathetic sight, all curled up against the wall and using his school bag as a pillow.

“It’s dinnertime. You weren’t at the Great Hall, so I had the incentive to come and find you now so we wouldn’t waste any time.”

“How noble of you,” Seungkwan mutters, but he gets to his feet anyway.

“Well? Are we going?” he all but demands, and Hansol’s lips twitch.

“Actually, you just so happened to be in the right place.” Hansol gestures towards the doorway Seungkwan was sitting by.

“Oh.” 

Hansol really is smirking as he leads Seungkwan in the door and inside. He snaps his fingers, and the candles placed in every corner slowly light up, brightening the room. 

“You can do wandless magic?” Seungkwan can’t help but say incredulously, eyes flicking from Hansol’s hand back up to his face. “Why were you even using a wand during our duel, then?”

“You seemed alarmed enough that I was using nonverbal magic, and I was afraid that not using a wand would agitate you more,” Hansol replies easily.

Seungkwan breathes in, and out. It would not be appropriate to slap Hansol this early on, no matter how arrogant he is. 

He hasn’t even learned anything yet, and he can already feel his patience running thin. Seungkwan regrets this decision. In the back of his mind, he registers that this is the very same room Hansol tied him up in. What a coincidence. 

“I would like you to stop showing off and actually teach me something,” Seungkwan says, voice laced with venom. Hansol stops twirling the pillow in the air, gaze slowly drifting back, and Seungkwan does _not_ crumble from the intensity of it.

“If you insist,” Hansol says. The pillow falls to the ground with an unceremonious _whap_. 

Before Seungkwan knows it, Hansol is standing mere inches away from his face.

“So?” Seungkwan asks, and Hansol scoffs quietly.

“Be patient.” 

Hansol grabs onto his arms and spins him around so that he is facing the wall.

“I want you to use a nonverbal charm on that pillow.” Seungkwan turns to look at Hansol, face set in a disbelieving expression.

“You mean, I have to do it now? Are you not going to model it for me?”

“I don’t think you’re ten years old, Seungkwan. I shouldn’t have to model this for you,” Hansol says, but his patronizing tone only serves to piss him off. “Do it.”

Seungkwan shakes Hansol’s grip off of him and pulls out his wand, pointing at the pillow. Nothing happens.

Hansol looks unimpressed with his attempt, gesturing for him to try again. Seungkwan once again struggles to do the nonverbal charm, and Hansol loses his patience.

“You should not be struggling with this,” Hansol says sharply, pointing at the pillow. It easily lifts itself into the air, and even does a few spins in the air before Hansol lets it drop back to the ground. He’s not even holding his wand. “You clearly know how to do a Levitation Charm. Now _do_ it.”

Seungkwan closes his eyes. “This is a completely different use of the Levitation Charm.”

“You are skilled with Charms, are you not?” Hansol asks.

“I suppose,” Seungkwan says slowly. “It comes more naturally than Potions or Transfiguration, though I wouldn’t say I was _skilled—_ ”

“It was a rhetorical question,” Hansol interrupts, rolling his eyes. “Don’t downplay your abilities.”

Seungkwan opens his mouth to protest, and Hansol actually puts a hand over his mouth.

“Stop being mouthy and actually do it,” Hansol orders. 

Seungkwan glowers, slapping Hansol’s hand away. 

He points his wand at the pillow, trying to recite the incantation mentally and with more clarity, and is not very surprised when it doesn’t work again. 

When he fails, Hansol just gets more upset.

“Oh, for the love of—” he mutters, and Seungkwan wants to beam him in the head with his own wand.

“My fucking mistake,” Seungkwan spits. “You expect me to do this perfectly?”

“You should not be struggling with this!” hisses Hansol, and Seungkwan is at his wit’s end.

“You keep telling me this,” he says, on the verge of yelling, and when Hansol rolls his eyes at him, he’s decided he’s had enough.

“You’re a horrible teacher!” Seungkwan shouts, and flicks his wand towards the pillow again. The pillow shoots towards the wall and explodes in a cloud of feathers. 

Seungkwan swivels back towards Hansol, intending to either gloat in his face or punch him, perhaps both, but his attention is quickly diverted by the knife coming towards his face.

He panics and points his wand towards it, but luckily for him the knife changes its course and heads right back towards Hansol.

Hansol catches it with one hand, completely cool, and Seungkwan loses his temper.

“ _Why the fuck would you_ —” Seungkwan snarls, storming towards him to grab Hansol by the tie.

“It was something my mentor taught me,” Hansol says quietly, allowing Seungkwan to manhandle him. He doesn’t even flinch when Seungkwan yanks him down by the tie so that they are eye to eye. “I wanted to see if you could do it.”

“I hope your mentor seriously injured you with that knife,” Seungkwan spits.

“He used a wine glass instead,” Hansol corrects, and Seungkwan’s vision goes red.

“I wouldn’t have let it hit you,” Hansol assures him, but Seungkwan rolls his eyes and tries to control his rapid breathing.

“I’m sure you would have protected me,” he jeers in response. 

“I would have,” Hansol insists, and Seungkwan makes sure to look as doubtful as possible. 

“Your methods are really something, aren’t they?” Seungkwan sneers.

“They worked, though.”

“Fuck you,” Seungkwan tells him wholeheartedly, one hand still gripping his tie with white knuckles.

Hansol smiles slowly. “We can do that later.”

Seungkwan slaps him.

Hansol’s head jerks to the side from the force of it, and he automatically reaches up to cradle the side of his face. The knife clatters to the ground, but they both ignore it.

“You hit hard,” Hansol says, far too casually for Seungkwan’s liking. Seungkwan shoves him away with as much force as possible, relishing in the way Hansol stumbles back.

What a prick, Seungkwan thinks violently. 

“You’re such an annoying bitch,” Seungkwan snarls.

“It’s not my fault you’re a sensitive brat,” Hansol says. Seungkwan lunges forward to slap him again, and Hansol catches both of his wrists.

Seungkwan struggles, but Hansol’s grip holds firm, and he’s wearing such an incredibly annoying expression that Seungkwan wants to rip his throat out. 

They make eye contact, and it is at this moment that everything becomes five times more uncomfortable than before. 

Seungkwan can’t help but blush at the look Hansol gives him. His stare is heavy in a way that he can’t decipher and it makes him uneasy in a way that he certainly doesn’t appreciate.

A fleeting thought rises to the forefront of his mind, but Seungkwan squashes it with a vengeance and shakes his head. Hansol continues watching him with that strange expression.

“What,” Hansol says, softly, deliberately coaxing. Seungkwan refuses to meet his eyes.

“Are you really going to make me say it?” Seungkwan asks. He’s breathing heavily, still wiggling a little bit, but it doesn’t look like Hansol will let go of him. 

Hansol doesn’t respond to that, continuing to watch him with that intense expression, and Seungkwan kicks at him. 

“I’m attracted to you, you asshole,” Seungkwan spits, and Hansol looks delighted at this new piece of information. 

“Oh. I see.” The look in his eyes is practically obsessive.

Seungkwan shoves him, and Hansol lets him go. He rubs at his wrists. 

“If you’re going to be like this, at least take me out on a date or something,” Seungkwan hisses, without really thinking about it, and Hansol actually looks taken aback.

“Huh?” he says, and that’s probably the most normal thing Hansol has ever said in his presence.

“Were you seriously expecting me to…..” Seungkwan gestures vaguely, trying to get his point across, “...without even trying to know me?”

Hansol looks thrown off. Seungkwan can tell he’s struggling to respond. “Uh, possibly?”

“This is not how this is supposed to work,” Seungkwan tells him, adamant. Hansol frowns. 

“You absolute fool,” Seungkwan mutters under his breath. 

“What?” Hansol asks, the idiot.

Seungkwan grabs his shoulders and shakes Hansol violently, just because he can. He doubts Hansol will kill him now.

“You buffoon,” Seungkwan continues. “I cannot even bear to have you in the same room as me without wishing to tear you apart—”

“At least you’re admitting it,” Hansol says, and Seungkwan shoots him a truly poisonous look. Hansol shuts up.

“I cannot bear to have you in the same room as me,” Seungkwan says again. “You are simultaneously the densest and yet the most intelligent person I have ever met, and I despise that. Go on a date with me.”

He appears to have stunned Hansol into silence, which would be a fantastic outcome in literally any other situation but this one.

“Answer me or I’ll retract my offer,” Seungkwan snaps, and that effectively startles Hansol out of his reverie.

“I might even stop being your student, too,” he adds, just to be petty. Hansol’s a shitty teacher anyway.

“No, Seungkwan, wait,” Hansol says. Seungkwan’s waiting. Very impatiently, in fact.

“I accept your offer.” What is this, a business deal? Then again, Seungkwan thinks that his pureblood parents might appreciate the way Hansol is going about this. 

“Good,” Seungkwan says, very crossly, and walks out of the room. 

He can hear Hansol’s rapid footsteps as he follows.

“We’re not done yet,” Hansol protests, grabbing onto Seungkwan’s arm. Seungkwan, the saint that he is, doesn’t shove him off.

“I know,” Seungkwan says, and Hansol makes an incredulous noise in the back of his throat. “I knew you’d follow me. We still need to discuss some things, but I’m exhausted and I would like to get to my dormitories as early as possible.”

“Okay,” Hansol says dutifully. Seungkwan beams at him. He’s being quite agreeable. He would pat Hansol’s hair, but he doesn’t think their relationship has reached that point quite yet. 

“So,” Seungkwan announces, stepping down the staircase and narrowly avoiding tripping Hansol in the process. “I have made no plans for the next Hogsmeade trip next week. I think that would be a good time for a date. Are you free?”

“Yes,” Hansol says. He sounds a little starstruck.

Seungkwan smiles at him. For once, it’s genuine.

“It’s a date, then.” Hansol takes his hand as they step down the final staircase.

“Oh,” Seungkwan gasps. “You didn’t have to walk me all the way back. You’re all the way back at the Ravenclaw Tower.”

“I don’t mind,” Hansol murmurs. “Especially if it’s for you.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Chwe,” Seungkwan says, but it’s not intended to be harsh. There’s a smile tugging at his lips, and he thanks Merlin that it’s dark enough that he can’t see much.

“I won’t,” Hansol says, surprisingly patient, and lifts Seungkwan’s hand up. Is he _really_ going to—

Hansol’s lips brush over Seungkwan’s hand, and it’s getting harder to fight the smile threatening to spread across his face.

“I’ll see you, Kwannie,” Hansol says, gently dropping Seungkwan’s hand. He leaves in a flourish of dark robes, and Seungkwan watches him until he disappears up the staircase and around the corner.

Seungkwan’s _smiling_. He whacks his face lightly with both hands. 

“Get ahold of yourself,” he mutters, but there’s a distinctly warm feeling in his chest.

Oh, whatever. It’s not like this date _finalizes_ anything. If anything, it’s a test. To see if Hansol really is emotionally stunted, or if he would be a decent…boyfriend. Even if he is a little bit insane.

Seungkwan should seriously stop blushing at the thought of it, though. Now that’s just embarrassing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hoo boy. i’m glad i was able to get this out, but sorry if it’s not up to your expectations. i’m in a weird state of happy and unhappy with this chapter, but i’m excited for the next one. hope you enjoy!!


	5. Chapter 5

The telltale signs of excitement are rising to the surface, and Seungkwan can’t help but bounce as he exits the Great Hall. 

It’s entirely possible that he’s getting strange looks as he practically skips down the hallway — how undignified of him — but Seungkwan honestly doesn’t give a shit. Yesterday, he might have sent a glare back at the offenders, but today, he may or may not be high on euphoria. He’s not even sure if that’s an exaggeration or not.

God, why is Seungkwan so excited? Perhaps it’s the prospect of having a date with someone he finds attractive. Perhaps it’s the fact that said someone is _Hansol_. 

He’s still holding Chan’s book in his hands, though. Chan had always been unavailable whenever Seungkwan had tried to find him, and that was a little strange. He could’ve just left it at the foot of Chan’s bed, but Seungkwan wanted to return it in person. 

It’s just _one_ more little task that Seungkwan has to complete before he can head out with Hansol.

“Where is he?” Seungkwan muses, helpfully spinning in place, but ends up bumping into Hansol first.

The first thing Seungkwan notices is how dashing he looks. All right, he knows he’s smitten, but if anyone took a look at Hansol right now, they would probably think the same. 

Seungkwan cannot believe he’s drooling over a boy in the typical boring Hogwarts uniform. Against all odds, Hansol manages to look hot in those robes. He _shouldn’t_! Seungkwan despises him.

Hansol opens his mouth to greet him, but Seungkwan spots Chan exiting the Great Hall out of the corner of his eye. 

“Wait, give me a moment.” Seungkwan waves Chan’s book at Hansol in explanation. Hansol closes his mouth. “I’ll meet you at the main entrance.”

Before Hansol can even respond, Seungkwan is already following Chan’s retreating figure.

“Chan!” he calls. “I still have your book!” 

Chan doesn’t even acknowledge him at first, still walking in the direction of the dungeons, and Seungkwan shakes his head. Is Chan ignoring him?

Seungkwan barely manages to grab Chan by the shoulder and turn him around.

“Chan,” Seungkwan repeats, more deliberately this time. “I have your book.”

There is a moment of silence in which Chan simply stands there and stares, before he takes his precious book back with a sullen expression. 

“Are you going to thank me?” Seungkwan asks, and Chan actually scowls at him. What is it with the sudden attitude?

“Thank you,” Chan says slowly, and Seungkwan detects zero sincerity from those two words.

“Are you alright?” The younger narrows his eyes at him, clutching his book closer to his chest. 

“I’m fine,” Chan answers, still glaring. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Just go have fun with your boyfriend and stop fucking bothering me,” Chan snaps, and turns away.

Seungkwan frowns at his retreating back. How rude.

“Is he causing problems?” Hansol asks, directly in his ear, and Seungkwan startles.

“Have you been eavesdropping?” Seungkwan accuses. Hansol smiles in response. Nosy bastard.

“Honestly, it’s none of your business,” he continues, and misses Hansol practically glaring daggers into Chan’s back as he rounds the corner. “It’s just silly drama. There’s no need for you to get involved.” 

“If you say so.” Hansol looks back down at him. “Shall we?”

“Let’s.” Seungkwan pushes his annoyance to the back of his mind and plasters on a smile. 

As soon as they step outside, Seungkwan cringes at the cold blast of air, gloved hands automatically going to his exposed neck.

“Did you not bring a scarf?” Hansol asks. 

“Uh, no.” Seungkwan rubs at his neck, shuddering again when the wind picks up.

Hansol takes off his Ravenclaw scarf and drapes it over Seungkwan’s shoulders with care.

“Thank you.” It’s more worn than Seungkwan would’ve expected, and smells faintly of roses and old books. Hansol must spend a lot of time in the library, Seungkwan thinks wryly. 

Once they arrive at Hogsmeade, they go to Honeydukes first, per Hansol’s request.

The inside of Honeydukes is a bit overwhelming, if Seungkwan’s being honest, but Hansol immediately lights up. The shop itself smells like a blend of a million different candies, but there’s the distinct scent of peppermint permeating the air. It’s probably because it’s wintertime, Seungkwan muses.

There are entirely too many students in this cramped shop for Seungkwan’s liking, and before he knows it Hansol has disappeared into the crowd. Seungkwan watches as Hansol’s silver hair vanishes from sight, and curses. 

“God dammit,” Seungkwan mutters, and starts pushing his way through his fellow students.

After a grueling journey of twenty feet, Seungkwan finds Hansol standing in the corner and staring intently at the large display of chocolate frogs. He already has half a basket full of candy, and Seungkwan is simultaneously impressed and horrified with the speed at which Hansol has found said candy.

“Are you going to take any?” Seungkwan prompts, and startles Hansol out of his chocolate reverie.

“Yes,” Hansol says, and proceeds to sweep half the shelf of chocolate into his basket. Seungkwan watches the display with horror.

“Are we done?” Seungkwan asks, deciding to stop Hansol now before he goes and buys the entire shop. He tugs impatiently on Hansol’s sleeve. “Or has the smell of sickeningly sweet candy gotten to your brain and caused rot?” 

“Yes,” Hansol agrees, and allows Seungkwan to drag him in the direction of the register.

Seungkwan waits (im)patiently as Hansol dumps the entirety of his candy basket on the counter. The witch at the register begins sorting through it with remarkable speed.

“Ten galleons and five sickles, please,” the witch says. Her eyes have the recognizable signs of the stress of working retail, and Seungkwan pities her.

Seungkwan pulls out his coin pouch before Hansol can retrieve his own, and slides fourteen galleons across the counter. 

“Keep the change,” Seungkwan tells her, and the witch nods appreciatively at him. 

“I thought I was supposed to be the one buying you things?” Hansol asks, but Seungkwan just shakes his head and lets the cashier load the shopping bag full of chocolate. 

“This should go both ways,” Seungkwan says. He takes the bag from the counter and hands it to Hansol, ushering them out of the cramped shop and back into the winter weather. 

“I can pay for myself,” Hansol argues. He pauses for a moment, inhaling the cold air deeply, and then smirks. “Then again, you’re rich as hell. You could pay for all my chocolate without blinking.” 

“Careful,” Seungkwan tells Hansol warningly. “I might think you prefer my money over me.”

“Chocolate is good,” Hansol mutters. He cradles the bag of chocolate frogs closer to his chest. 

“Oh, so it’s true,” Seungkwan sighs, and promptly yanks the bag from Hansol’s arms with nonverbal magic. 

Hansol looks from the bag of chocolate to Seungkwan’s wand to his face. 

“I shouldn’t have taught you that,” he mutters, and Seungkwan laughs at the regret in his eyes. He then starts a tirade about candy and money and spells, which Seungkwan chooses to tune out. 

“Where to now?” Seungkwan asks, still ignoring Hansol’s whining, but he gives the bag back anyway. 

“Since this is a date,” Hansol begins, and Seungkwan narrows his eyes. He knows where this is going.

“We’re not going to the fucking tea shop,” Seungkwan declares, cutting Hansol off before he can even finish. “I will take away your entire bag of chocolates _again_ if you even dare to suggest that.”

Hansol gives him a wounded look. 

“Stop looking like a dejected puppy,” Seungkwan sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I was joking.” 

They’re still standing in the middle of the street, which is remarkably crowded for how cold it is.

“Well?” Seungkwan asks. He prods Hansol tentatively when he doesn’t move from his spot. “Are we going to freeze to death or are we going inside?”

“You’re being dramatic,” Hansol sighs, but starts walking towards The Three Broomsticks anyways.

“Good choice,” Seungkwan says approvingly, trotting after him.

They reach The Three Broomsticks in short order, and Seungkwan sighs gratefully at the automatic warmth of the pub. Luckily for them, there’s one table left, and Seungkwan snags it immediately and takes a seat. Hansol sits down on the other side, dropping his candy bag onto the table with a loud clunk.

“Should I…?” Seungkwan asks, gesturing vaguely at the bar, but Hansol is already standing. He waves him off.

“Just save our table,” Hansol replies, and heads off in the direction of the bar.

“I want butterbeer,” Seungkwan calls after him.

“Yeah, okay, fine,” Hansol calls back, and Seungkwan can’t help his snort. 

He decides to stare at the Honeydukes bag as he waits. Seungkwan has never been a huge candy fan, preferring healthier foods to sweets, but it’s not like he doesn’t indulge himself from time to time. 

Seungkwan doesn’t even notice Hansol setting their butterbeer mugs down, still eyeing the bag carelessly left in the middle of the table. 

“I’ll hand feed you chocolate,” Hansol offers, and Seungkwan can’t believe that he actually takes a moment to consider it.

“I’ll pass, thank you,” Seungkwan sniffs. It’s a little bit too intimate for a first date, Seungkwan reasons, and who knows if Hansol is even worthy of hand feeding him. 

“Your loss.”

Seungkwan makes sure that Hansol sees his eye roll.

“How are your classes?” Seungkwan throws out the first topic he can think of, since they don’t share any classes anyway. 

“I may have been asked a couple times about missing an assignment or two,” Hansol admits after a thoughtful pause. “My studying has been a little lacking these past few weeks.”

“It’s because you’ve wasted your precious study time stalking me,” Seungkwan says. He’s only half joking.

“It’s not a waste of time,” Hansol protests, and takes a large sip from his mug. 

Ravenclaw star student, my ass, Seungkwan thinks. If this is Ravenclaw’s best student, then is the rest of his House full of lazy teenagers?

Hansol tips his head back and inhales the rest of his drink within seconds, and Seungkwan wrinkles his nose, thought process derailed. 

Since Hansol has finished his drink within a mere minute, Seungkwan begins to take several more sips. Hansol clearly has nothing better to do, so he just ends up staring at him — he preens under the attention — but Seungkwan tries to finish as quickly as possible. To be polite, of course.

“Should we go now?” Seungkwan asks, draining the last dregs of his butterbeer and setting his mug down with a quiet thud. 

“Sure,” Hansol agrees, holding a hand out for Seungkwan to pull himself to his feet. The two exit the pub, Seungkwan shuddering unhappily at the cold that hits them, and head in no particular direction.

“Do you think we should just head back to the castle, or go to another shop—” Seungkwan begins, but then promptly stops.

Hansol abruptly freezes in place, nearly tripping Seungkwan, but there’s something about his behavior that makes Seungkwan wary. 

“ _What_ ,” Seungkwan hisses, but Hansol lifts a finger up to shush him.

Hansol’s eyes dart from the several people still loitering in the street back to Seungkwan several times, before the Ravenclaw grabs him by the arm and drags him into the nearest alley. It’s quite dark and a little putrid, and Seungkwan wrinkles his nose in mild disgust. 

“What are you doing?” Seungkwan whispers.

His question is answered almost immediately.

There is someone leaning casually against the alley wall, their sharp features shadowed. Seungkwan can barely discern the smirk on their face, but it automatically makes him uneasy. Hansol inhales sharply, trying to pull him back, but Seungkwan shakes him off.

Seungkwan pulls out his wand from his robe pocket and holds it threateningly in front of them, but Hansol stops him.

“Wait,” Hansol whispers frantically, but he can’t stop Seungkwan from calling out to the unknown figure.

“Have you been following us this entire time?” Seungkwan demands, taking another step forward.

“Kwannie, don’t,” Hansol hisses, but Seungkwan yanks his hand free.

“Who are you?” Seungkwan takes another few steps forward, and the alley suddenly brightens.

Seungkwan shakes his head, trying to adjust to the sudden light. He needs a few more moments to fully see the scene in front of him, but the mystery figure is already standing directly in front of him.

When Seungkwan realizes, he gasps and stumbles back into Hansol. The Ravenclaw holds onto his arms and stabilizes him, but Seungkwan can still feel his body trembling minutely. 

Yoon Jeonghan looks much different than the wanted posters, Seungkwan thinks, but he’s no less terrifying. His wand isn’t out — the man’s hands are tucked neatly behind his back — but the aura of pure magic emanating from him is incredibly overpowering. Seungkwan briefly thanks the higher deities that are out there that he hadn’t been struck dead immediately upon Jeonghan’s arrival. 

Even so, the man is unnervingly beautiful in person. The jet black of his hair makes the paleness of his skin and eyes so striking, and even despite being dressed casually he makes his clothes seem like finery. 

Seungkwan can’t help but stare at him with wide eyes, trying to take him in. Hansol makes an irritated noise from behind him, stepping forward.

“What are you _doing_ here?” Hansol hisses.

“Can’t I stop by and say hello to my favorite student?” Jeonghan simpers, and reaches a hand to caress the side of Hansol’s face. Hansol glares.

“You’re not supposed to even be here,” Hansol spits, but Jeonghan just rolls his eyes carelessly. 

Yoon Jeonghan’s gaze slowly drifts to where Seungkwan is standing. Hansol automatically moves so that he’s blocking him from the man’s sight, and Seungkwan finds himself clutching at Hansol’s arm. 

“Don’t be rude, Hansol,” Jeonghan says quietly. There’s the faintest sign of anger in his voice.

It looks like Hansol is about to duck his head in deference, but the moment is gone, and Hansol just sneers at Jeonghan instead. 

“What’s your name?” Jeonghan asks suddenly, completely diverting his attention to Seungkwan. He swallows slowly, not daring to break eye contact. 

“Boo Seungkwan.” 

Jeonghan’s eyes light up in recognition.

“Oh, you’re from the Boo line. A wonderful family.” Jeonghan’s pale eyes look _hungry_ , and Hansol actually wraps a hand around Seungkwan’s wrist to hold him in place. 

“Thank you,” Seungkwan murmurs, because there’s not much else he can say. 

Jeonghan takes his face gently with one hand, delicate fingers wrapping around his chin, and Seungkwan shudders. His fingers are unnervingly cold.

“Hansol, I’m disappointed.” Jeonghan’s pale grey eyes do not leave Seungkwan’s face. “You’ve been _hiding_ him from me.”

Hansol makes an affronted noise behind Jeonghan, but doesn’t move from his spot. 

“You’re quite cute,” Jeonghan continues, his face entirely too close for Seungkwan’s comfort. The man’s fingers stroke his cheek gently — Seungkwan would almost call the action reverent. “You have beautiful features, really.”

It’s a compliment, but Seungkwan feels a bit sick anyway. 

“I think I will put you in a painting to immortalize your beauty forever,” Jeonghan coos, continuing to cup Seungkwan’s face in his hands gently. 

Seungkwan nods mutely, not enjoying the way Jeonghan’s breath fans out over his face. Jeonghan’s other hand wraps around his wrist, gripping tightly, and Seungkwan can’t help the quiet whimper that escapes.

“Get away from him.” Hansol pulls Jeonghan’s hands away from Seungkwan harshly, tugging the Slytherin behind him without an ounce of subtlety.

Jeonghan grins at Hansol, though the smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Jeonghan—sir.” Hansol pulls himself to his full height, though the other man still has a full inch on him. “I think it would be best if we don’t meet each other in public.”

Seungkwan watches the scene mutely, not particularly liking the way Jeonghan’s eyes gleam.

“I don’t appreciate your disobedience,” Jeonghan says slowly, grey eyes drifting to lock onto Hansol. “It’s quite unfitting.”

Hansol stares him down, and Jeonghan’s lip curls, just the slightest bit. The standoff lasts for a mere moment, and then Jeonghan is huffing, taking several steps back.

Jeonghan’s head lolls to the side, raven hair falling to shade his eyes from view. “Since you’re so rude, Hansollie, I think I’ll be off now.”

It’s rather sudden that Jeonghan would obey Hansol’s...request, and Seungkwan’s hackles automatically rise.

“Good,” Hansol mutters under his breath, and Seungkwan dearly hopes Jeonghan didn’t catch that.

“I hope we meet again.”

He sends one last bone chilling smile towards Seungkwan, and with an ear splitting crack, he’s gone. 

Seungkwan takes several seconds to run through the events that had just happened, and then starts his daily mandated breakdown.

“Hansol,” Seungkwan says weakly. 

“You’re alright,” Hansol replies, but there’s something slightly ingenuine to it.

Seungkwan leans against the cold bricks of the alley wall and inhales shakily. Hansol just watches him in silence, waiting for him to calm down.

The fear still lurks, but it slowly gives way to anger, and then Seungkwan whirls to grab Hansol’s robes with both hands. He shakes Hansol as violently as possible — a now familiar situation — and Hansol grabs his hands and detaches them roughly. 

“Yoon Jeonghan is your mentor? _Him_?” 

“I don’t know what you expected,” Hansol tells Seungkwan. His voice is deliberately slow, and it just irritates Seungkwan further.

“Anyone but the most dangerous wizard of our age, maybe!” Seungkwan hisses, tugging at his hair anxiously. “Are you an idiot?!”

“Seungkwan, shut up,” Hansol says coldly.

Seungkwan shuts up.

“Look, Seungkwan, if you have any common sense at all, you'll stay far away from Jeonghan and the shit that he pulls.” Hansol sighs, running a hand and messing up his neatly curled hair. “It’s too messy. Just…don't stick your nose into anything you don't want to get involved with.” 

“Okay,” Seungkwan says. His voice sounds too hollow for it to be anything but a lie, and Hansol frowns.

Hansol wraps his fingers around Seungkwan’s face, squishing his cheeks. It’s an incredibly effective distraction. “Stop thinking.”

“‘M not thinking,” Seungkwan protests. That’s also a lie. He’s definitely thinking too much about this.

“We can go home,” Hansol offers. Seungkwan can already visualize what Hansol’s thinking — a traumatic encounter, ruining everything. It would just be better for them to go back to the safety of Hogwarts Castle, where Jeonghan can’t come and get them.

However, Seungkwan most definitely wants to spend the remainder of the day at Hogsmeade, so he scrambles to stop Hansol’s idea from becoming true. “No — no wait, Hansol.” 

Hansol pauses.

“I want to spend more time with you. Please, let’s just spend the rest of the day here. I don’t want this — this incident to ruin anything.”

Hansol sighs, but Seungkwan knows he’s relenting. He inwardly cheers. 

“Fine,” Hansol says, but Seungkwan catches the relieved note in his voice. Perhaps he didn’t want the date to end as well. “Where should we go next?”

The rest of the day passes too quickly for Seungkwan’s liking, but he’s satisfied, and he can tell Hansol is too. He ignores the creeping anxiety of that lovely encounter with Jeonghan, but Seungkwan just won’t think about it.

They depart without any ceremony, and Seungkwan tries not to despair over the lack of any kisses. It’s fine. Seungkwan is _fine_. 

Hansol had kindly provided dinner for them both, so he doesn’t bother going back down to the Great Hall and heads straight for the dorms instead. Seungkwan takes a nice long shower and hops right into bed, and realizes Hansol left his scarf behind.

Seungkwan delicately picks it back up from where he’s unceremoniously dropped it, and drapes it over his shoulders.

He hears the door open, and sits up straighter in his bed, but it’s just Chan. 

The other Slytherin hovers in the doorway, as if he’s uncertain whether to come in or not. Seungkwan frowns at him.

“Is there something wrong?”

Chan stares blankly at him, and Seungkwan frowns harder. 

“You’re wearing his scarf,” Chan notes, his voice devoid of emotion. 

“And?” Seungkwan challenges. 

Chan’s lip curls in disapproval, and Seungkwan can’t help the incredulous scoff that escapes him. 

“Are you alright?” Seungkwan asks, trying not to let his voice reveal his irritation. “You’ve been tetchy all day.”

“I think you’re being too rash,” the younger says slowly. He’s deliberately avoiding the question. “I don’t think Hansol is the best person to be around.”

Seungkwan bristles, offended on Hansol’s behalf. 

“Oh? Is it just a hunch telling you that? Or are you just being a nosy little brat?” 

“Seungkwan, shut up,” Chan warns.

“Stop interfering in my business, then,” Seungkwan replies, just as warning as he is. 

“I’m just trying to protect you.” 

“I don’t need protecting,” Seungkwan snarls. “I’m not a damsel in distress, nor am I stupid!”

“But you’re certainly being an idiot,” Chan hisses.

“Takes one to know one,” Seungkwan taunts.

“You don’t know what he’s done, Seungkwan,” Chan stresses. He takes a step forward, as if to grab him by the shoulders, but Seungkwan catches the hesitation in his jerky movements. “You don’t know him.”

“Do I now?” Seungkwan knows his voice sounds cold, but Chan is getting on his nerves. It’s a warning, but Chan continues to disregard it. 

“You don’t,” Chan says, and tilts his head up defiantly. Any previous patience Seungkwan had has been drained away, and he finds himself rising to his feet, stalking towards where Chan is standing.

“Get out.”

“This is my dorm too,” Chan hisses. 

“I said _get out_.”

“Are you really prioritizing me — our _friendship_ — over a boy? A student — a suspicious student, Seungkwan — who has done nothing to gain your trust, yet you’re falling all over him like everyone else is?” Chan stresses, voice strained. “Can’t you just listen to me for once? Can’t you take this one piece of advice? That’s literally all I’m asking for right now. Hear me out.” 

A thousand hateful words come to the surface, but Seungkwan takes a deep breath to center himself. He stares Chan down with all the coldness he can muster.

“I’m only going to warn you one more time, Lee Chan,” Seungkwan sneers. He knows that his voice sounds anything but kind, and yet he doesn’t care. “Get the fuck out.”

Chan takes a painful moment to just stand there silently, and then slams the door behind him. It shuts with a resounding bang, shaking the nightstand with so much force the lamp on it tips over. 

Seungkwan flinches back at the sound of glass shattering, and then regains his dignity.

He toys with a loose thread hanging off the edge of the scarf, frowning at nothing in particular. He never thought that Chan would have such a problem with Hansol. Does he think Seungkwan is superficial or stupid? Seungkwan is relatively certain that he is neither of those options, so Chan should get a nice reality check sometime soon. 

Chan doesn’t return that night, and Seungkwan doesn’t see him the next morning, either. 

Whatever, Seungkwan thinks bitterly, throwing the covers off of him. It’s not like it’s his problem anymore.  
  


* * *

If all Hansol had to do was show Seungkwan a more humane and protective side, he would have done it _ages_ ago.

Seungkwan is falling for his act, and Hansol is so delighted. It’s funny, really, how Seungkwan had been so adamant that he was not falling for anything, and yet here they are, dating already. The Slytherin is so damn gullible, and Hansol laughs at the irony of it all. Is this manipulative? Perhaps. But the ends justify the means, after all, and Hansol is getting what he wants. 

It wasn’t necessarily protectiveness, but his darling Seungkwan doesn’t need to know that. Hansol can be just a little possessive, and he doesn’t want Yoon Jeonghan’s hands on him. It’s worth the punishment that Jeonghan will eventually inflict on him, and Hansol knows it’s coming.

Either way, it’s a shame. He could’ve done things so much more efficiently, but there’s no use beating himself up over it.

After all, he’s gotten another piece of good news. If Hansol can finally remove one Lee Chan from the equation, life would be so much more pleasant.

It’s _interesting_. Seungkwan and Chan already seem to be creating a rift between them. Arguing over him? How flattering.

He doesn’t know if they’ll make up, but it’s better to be safe than sorry. He can plant some ideas in Chan’s mind, drive them apart, or maybe…

Hmm. Perhaps Hansol can pay him a visit. That would be fun for the both of them, wouldn’t it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HA HA HA i’m so sorry that took yet another month to update...i hope u enjoyed this. it’s just. hogsmeade and ✨drama✨ lol. send me a dm on twt if u want to yell at me or u can comment below that works too. thank u sm for reading!!! i love y’all a lot.

**Author's Note:**

> hello!! i’d like to thank SandyRoses for indulging this au and helping me develop this riveting universe. it was a lot of fun.


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